You can't always be prepared
by WhatHaveWeDone
Summary: International Rescue are ready for anything - except when they're not. I found this in my files - i forgot that I had written it - what a nice surprise that I didn't actually have to do much work to post anything today.


Scott studied the holo-map hanging above the main controls of Thunderbird One. It had been a long hard day battling a brush fire that had surrounded a small town in the Australian outback. It had been a day full of hard work and harder choices, and this was the hardest one yet. But it had to be done no matter how much shit he was going to get for it. He opened his primary comm line, the one that went directly to Thunderbird Five. "John? Are you there?"

"No, I stepped out for some fresh air. Of course I'm here." Came the somewhat sarcastic reply. Usually difficult to rile this was the only symptom John would display that he was starting to fray at the edges: too much to co-ordinate and too little sleep. A small representation of John appeared in front of him, floating more calmly than he sounded. "What do you need?"

"Real funny." Scott ran an exasperated hand through his hair. "Are you tracking what's going on down here? The fire's getting out of control again and local fire fighters don't have equipment that will manage this. We might need to use One, Two and all three of the Pods."

"Which means you need an extra pair of hands," small John nodded. "It makes sense. I've been tracking but I've not been able to put together any accurate forecasts: the wind has been too variable. I'm heading down now." There was only the slightest tinge of hesitancy to his voice.

"I'm sorry John, I know what this will mean but - "

"Don't apologise, I agree it's the only way." John vanished and Scott gave a sigh of relief. One problem will soon be solved, and a whole new one created. Virgil would _not_ be happy.

High in orbit John pushed himself away from the master console. "EOS, take over monitoring. You know the priorities by now."

"I do. I also know that you aren't following proper procedure for spending extended time planetside." EOS's voice came from all around, but a small camera followed as he floated down the corridor.

"No, I'm not, but I'll worry about that later. Drop the space elevator to their location please." John strapped himself into the chair, grabbing an emergency kit and administering an injection to himself. It wouldn't be enough, but it would help somewhat.

Spending any length of time in space put a unique sort of strain on the body, and John's extensive shifts on Five with very little shore leave only exacerbated that. He probably clocked up more off-Earth hours than anyone except asteroid miners. To try and prevent the long term health effects John and Brains had come up with a complex schedule for him of time in zero gravity, low grav, normal grav, and even high grav.

When long term space residents returned to Earth they usually underwent a week long acclimatization programme to ward off the most extreme reactions to the change in gravity and environment. When John left his space station the affects were delayed due to his conditioning, and if he had six hours to prepare properly he had no ill affects at all. Without that time his symptoms were not instant, but they would be severe. Like today, when he was giving himself his first injection as the space elevator began its decent to the surface. Not even six minutes. This was going to suck.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" EOS asked, green light concerned.

"I don't want to, but I'm going to anyway."

* * *

"We need someone over to the north!" Gordon yelled unnecessarily, his comm signal loud and clear.

"We don't have anyone to cover the north. I can't be in two places at once." Virgil said from his position in Two. Alan was in another pod and Scott was in One. Kayo was doing something super secret across the other side of the world so it was just the four of them. He had been working blind for at least the last hour as the windshield was obscured with smoke and flame instead relying on his own sensors and frequent updates from the others.

There was a small 'blip' and some numbers appeared in the centre of his console. _2:30:00, 2:29:59, 2:29:58_

A two hour thirty countdown? What the...?

"I'll cover the north." John interjected over the comm, and Virgil's instruments told him that the temporarily abandoned pod three was being fired – ha! - up. They needed the manpower but Virgil shook his head at the stupidity of it.

Virgil patched himself through to his unexpected brother. "John! What the hell? What are you doing here?"

"Taking the north."

"That's not what I meant and you know it. How much prep have you done for being down here?"

"Let's talk about it later we have a job to do."

"Tell me." Virgil ground out through clenched teeth.

"What do you want Virg?" John said, harassed "I had no notice so I've done no prep – I took an emergency booster on the way down."

"Exactly what I thought." Virgil rolled his eyes. Just like John to jump in and damn the consequences.

"Shall we get on with this. I've given you a timer: if I get back to Five before then I will be perfectly fine, so the more time we spend chatting - "

"Yeah okay, I get it." Virgil snapped. "Take the north then."

* * *

_-3:17:43_

They were all slumped in a side street, finding a quiet moment after a ferocious few hours. Covered in sweat and smoke and grime and aching from top to bottom. Gordon and Alan were sprawled on the floor, Scott and Virgil perching on pieces of debris, John leaning facing the wall, head resting on his forearm.

Though a thick smog of smoke and fumes still hung over the town Virgil felt a deep pride as he looked over to his triumphantly exhausted brothers – thanks to them there was no loss of life and the hospital was still operational.

"John?" Virgil asked, "How are you doing?"

It wasn't exactly quiet in the alley – the rumble of machinery and evacuation vehicles filled the air – but it was more peaceful than it had been in hours. Still, you had to listen out for it to tell that John's breathing was laboured, even more than it should be even considering the efforts of the day.

"John?" Vigil pulled himself to his feet when there was no response and forcibly turned him round. John let out a low groan, eyes shut. He was pale, sweaty yet flushed and gave a gruff answer. "I've felt better."

* * *

By the time they got back to the island John could hardly walk – one arm was slung over Gordon's shoulders and one over Virgil's as he was slowly guided down Two's ramp. Alan was completing the landing checks and keeping well out of the way.

"And who's stupid idea was this anyway? We could have handled it! Maybe a little bit slower, granted, but we'd have done it without you taking this stupid risk."

"Not now Virgil." Gordon said, eyeing John's lolling head.

Virgil, however had caught sight of the oldest and focused on this new target as Scott disembarked from Thunderbird One.

"Why did you let him do this?" Virgil hissed. "Or was it your idea?" Scott looked guilty as hell. "It was, wasn't it! Damn it Scott, you _know _what happens when he doesn't have time for a proper re-entry."

"Virgil. Stop." John managed to groan out but Virgil barely stopped for breath.

"I will not. This isn't something to be taken lightly and - "

"My decision. You're yelling. Going to puke." That gave him pause.

"Shout at me later." Scott said, putting his hand gently on John's shoulder. "Let's get him sorted first."

Virgil gave a quick nod of agreement. He _hated it_ when his brothers were hurt, hated it more when it could have been avoided. And this could have been. But taking care of them came first and there would be plenty of time for a full debrief.

"Fine, run ahead and get the medbay set up Scott, lets keep is steady Gordon."

"Yeah, we got ya big guy." Gordon said, hefting John slightly so he had a better hold. "Just don't spew on my boots, okay?"

* * *

Dawn found Scott loitering in the doorway of the medbay, as reluctant to enter as he was to leave. Virgil's glares had promised a long conversation later and Scott knew he would deserve that scolding.

John had kept the contents of his stomach inside his stomach for just long enough to reach the sink. After that he had to be full on carried to the bed, legs and consciousness giving way. His brothers manhandled his stubbornly unhelpful form till it was proppedup on pillows and as comfortable as they could make it.

John was hooked up to a heart monitor, face covered with an oxygen mask and iv line supplying him with both fluids and a custom medication mix. Scott didn't want to look at the displays and readings: he didn't have to. Brains had run simulations to assess the stress and strains rapid and decent into, and prolonged exposure to, the planet's gravity and this wasn't the first time that John had been forced to put those simulations to the test.

First was the blood pressure – up then down then up again – a sure fire path to migraines with nausea and dizzyness just a happy bonus. His internal organs would be resettling into their normal position after too long without the proper pressures of gravity. Breathing and movement was slow and difficult, muscles struggling, heart pounding. Left alone it would take weeks to get back on his feet.

Instead John had opted for a faster but harsher recovery. A particular concoction of painkillers, stimulants, relaxants and god-knows what else perfectly calibrated to John's body weight would cut the time he needed to stay in bed down to ten percent, though that time would be ten times as unpleasant as a side effect.

"Stop. Staring." John's voice was hoarse, but carried across the quiet of the room filled as it was with only the hum of machinery.

Scott sighed. He had hoped John was sleeping through the worst of this. He pulled up a chair to the side of the bed where he would be directly in John's eye line.

They all risked so much every day – life and limb whenever they took a call. And John was at risk even when not out on a mission, spending most of his life in a fragile bubble of safety in an infinitely hostile environment. Then this on top. Confined to bed. Not able to stand on his own. On bloody oxygen and morphine. Barely able to speak.

"How are you doing?"

"Great." John said, but shuddered as he did so and Scott frowned.

"You need more pain relief?"

"Can't have. Any more. Right now. Just muscle. Spasms. Anyway." John twitched as he spoke and Scott closed his eyes briefly against the pain the effort of those few words cost.

Scott knew that Virgil would find him later, when he was safely away from the recuperating John, and let the full force of his anger. It was always the same when one of them did something knowingly that resulted in an injury – somehow it was all Scott's fault.

He was in charge, so it did come down to him at that, but Virgil should know by now how it was next to impossible to stop one of them doing something crazy if they thought it needed doing.

Virgil would call it risky and berate Scott. Scott would remind him that there is no way to physically stop John leaving the station. Virgil would say that it didn't matter, and if Scott had done his job properly he would have instilled a healthy measure of self-preservation so that physical intervention wasn't needed. Scott would remind him that this was never part of the plan. Virgil would say to come up with a better plan. Scott would say there were no better plans and John knew the risks better than anyone. Virgil would remind Scott that every time he did this John risked a serious blood clot and the heart attack or stroke that might follow.

"You sure you wouldn't rather be in hospital?" Scott asked.

John lifted his oxygen mask and his head to fix Scott was a steely yet red-rimmed gaze. "Don't. You. Dare." John hated hospitals.

That would be another wave of the argument with Virgil – when it was appropriate to cart one of their own off to hospital against their wishes and when to give in to an easier life to keep them at home. Scott would have to bring up that no-one else in the world was more qualified to treat this particular set of symptoms than International Rescue, and Virgil would retort that was because no-one else let their stupid astronauts be so stupid as to need this stupid treatment in the first place. Then Virgil would probably storm out.

"Virgil's still going to yell at me," Scott sighed. "For some reason he thinks you do what I tell you."

"Don't worry big brother. I'll protect you." A faint ghosting of a smile dusted John's pinched lips. "I'll talk to him. In a few hours. When I'm up."

That was the only sure-fire way to diffuse Virgil's anger – he and John would have a heart to heart. Virgil would admit that it was fear for his brother that had him lashing out. John would explain that is was fear for others – and what would happen if he didn't act – that sent him hurtling to Earth at a moment's notice. They'd all agree to find a middle ground between caring for themselves and caring for others and life would go back to normal.

Until the next time that something like this happened.

With a firm but gentle hand to the forehead Scott pushed John's head back into the pillow. John let his eyes fall closed with a groan and didn't resist as Scott pushed the oxygen mask back over his mouth and nose.

"Maybe in twelve hours." John's words wavered and were slightly muffled by the mask.

"Twenty four. You are not moving for twenty four hours." Scott said firmly.

"We'll see. About. That." John's hands twitched painfully.

"Twenty four. Or so help me I will let Virgil at you now."


End file.
